


Empty Chairs

by Magi_Silverwolf



Series: Shades of the Past [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Related, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Mentions of Cancer, Mentions of a lot of canon characters, Mentions of miscarriage, POV Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin-centric, The Advent Challenge (2016) by MayWeWrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Remus was no stranger to loss. Sometimes it seemed like it was all he ever knew. But now it was Christmas. The first one is always the hardest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.  
> Warning: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.  
> Author’s Note(s): This story was written for The Advent Challenge hosted by the Facebook page May We Write. The Challenge is to write a ficlet of any size each day leading up to Christmas. It started today and the last part will be done on Christmas Eve. Advent will be posted on both FFN and AO3.

“There’s a grief that can’t be spoken/There’s a pain goes on and on.” –Marius Pontmercy, _Les Mis_ _érables_

-= LP =-

 

The bar was beyond seedy. Remus didn’t care. They probably cut the cheap beer that Remus couldn’t afford to be buying—with piss from the urinals if the flavor was anything to go by. Remus still didn’t care. He shouldn’t be drinking—it was a bad habit to get into, drowning one’s sorrows in alcohol. Remus didn’t care right then.

 

It was Christmas.

 

Last year at this time, he had been tucked into the overstuffed armchair that Lily had gotten from her parents when she had initially moved out on her own. It had followed her from that first apartment to Kilnford and from that ancestral seat, to the little cottage at Godric’s Hollow. She had half-hidden it in a little nook created by two bookcases, out of the way and just perfect for Remus whose senses gave him fits in the hustle of a home with a small child and Sirius Black, who was like a cross between a small child and the dog he sometimes was. His arms had been filled with Harry’s sweet weight. Harry was so big for a babe of not even five months, but was always so happy to see him. Harry was much too young to have much beyond baby foods, but Remus had been carefully sharing his cup of hot cocoa with the baby when Lily wasn’t looking.

 

That chair would be empty now, abandoned just like the rest of the cottage. Someone had raised impenetrable wards to protect the property. That was something, at least. Nothing could get in or out of the ruin, so maybe some day in the future, little Harry will be able to reclaim the house and all of its contents. Remus would have done the packing himself, but by the time he had heard the news and hurried back from the backend of Gog, the house had already been sealed per order of the Ministry and Sirius had been sent to Azkaban for multiple crimes. Harry was already wherever Dumbledore had hidden him.

 

Remus was used to loss. At times, it felt like that was all he really knew. He had not even been five when he had lost his humanity. He had been seven when he had escaped the room they kept aside for his transformations the first time. He didn’t bite anyone but the rough-housing caused his mother to lose the baby who would have been a welcomed little brother—and he wasn’t supposed to know about the barely a bump that had disappeared when he was nine. He didn’t know if the cause had been the escape or just the stress of having to move three times in a single season. Though that particular summer had been particularly bad, the Lupins had been forced to moved house several times over the years, abandoning the fragile friendships Remus had managed to make with neighborhood children.

 

Hope had literally been lost the year he had graduated from Hogwarts—not only in that Voldemort was officially recognized as a threat by that point, but his mother, _Hope_ , had finally succumbed to the cancer which had been eating her from the inside. Magic could do many things, but some things were just beyond its power. His father put on a good front whenever he went to visit, but Remus had seen the scraps of notes on his desk. Apparitions had always been Lyall’s fascination, but it appeared as if now he was working on an attempt to forcefully create one from a magic-less source. Raising the dead was the road to madness, but Remus couldn’t seem to convey that to his father. Bringing up the Tale of the Three Brothers had only spurned the scholarly wizard to start seeking out the Questers, those nutters who believe the Hollows were _real_.

 

Remus had grieved not being able to go to Hogwarts like his father, but then Dumbledore had swept in, with promises and reassurances—Hogwarts had been far better than he had ever imagined. The Marauders had soothed the ache which Remus had always felt—he told people that it had been for friendship, but if he was honest, that ache was much deeper than his _human_ side. It was a small pack, but it had been _his_ even if he hadn’t been the Alpha. Lily had been a welcomed inclusion, bringing with her Alice Diore and Marlene McKinnon. Marlene had been simply disappeared when the rest of the McKinnons had. It was Gringotts releasing their various vaults according to filed wills which told everyone that there would be no joyful discovery in the future. Alice had married James’ cousin Frank Longbottom, and within a fortnight of Lily and James’ deaths, the powerful aurors had been committed to the Janus Thickey Ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital. Their small son had been given to Frank’s mother, the Dowager Longbottom. Sirius had betrayed his role as Secret Keeper, effectively killing James and Lily, and then had killed Peter. Harry had been pocketed away somewhere that Dumbledore assured him was safe and that his presence would only upset the toddler’s ability to settle into his new home. Remus could understand what Dumbledore left unsaid. _His kind_ would not be welcomed by Harry’s family.

 

He took another gulp of the piss-beer, hoping to drown out the recognition of just how _alone_ he was in the world. This bar was a far cry from the warmth of Godric’s Hollow, and the beer was no comparison to Lily’s family recipe for cocoa. Remus didn’t care.

 

It was Christmas.


End file.
